


punch drunk love

by fnccafe



Category: SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boxing, First Meetings, Lesson learned kids, M/M, Taemin thinks he has to pretend to box in order for Minho to like him, That's not the case, be yourself and love will find you lmao, don't pretend to be someone you're not to please someone else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 04:28:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19968049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fnccafe/pseuds/fnccafe
Summary: Minho steps away, beginning to remove his gloves--not before stealing one last glance at the stranger, damn was he stunning, before saying, “Enjoy, then! Sorry for interrupting your workout! I wish I could punch exams harder than the bag, but that never works.”The pretty stranger smiles too and he looks so soft and gentle, smiling in the gym, so out of place in front of the filthy punching bag. He mumbles something, but Minho’s afraid he didn’t catch the quiet whispers. Minho is kind of terrified to ask him to repeat himself, especially when he thought he heard “I’d let you crush my head with those arms. Punch me, while you’re at it.”Must’ve been his sleep-deprived brain entering a hallucinatory phase.





	punch drunk love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winkyjinki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winkyjinki/gifts).



Minho feels eyes on him as he throws the last punch on the bag, pausing and turning--pretending to stretch his arms as he looked for someone's eyes. And he was right--there’s a boy staring at him from not too far. He’s lean, hair pushed back by a headband, and Minho notes he doesn’t look like one to box. 

Dance, maybe. Box? Definitely not.

Minho doesn’t judge, though, and it seems as if the boy wants to hit the bag to tire himself out enough to sleep. Which is valid, before Minho got into boxing seriously, he did the exact same thing. One, two,  _ punch. _ On and on until he was all worn out , which lasted for hours on a time, but recently exams have killed any kind of day routine Minho had kept during the semester. 

It’s also why he’s at the gym at six in the morning. 

It’s not usually this early when he’s at the gym, maybe this boy boxes at this time? As wild as it is, Minho’s seen a lot stranger at this university, and the gym is small--there’s not much equipment; Minho doesn’t mind, though, it’s close to campus and affordable, a student discount is a discount either way. 

Six in the morning seems like a great time to use the only boxing bag in the entire gym. 

It dawns on Minho that he could be ruining this attractive stranger’s entire routine, and it’s all because of he drank far too much caffeine, bullshitted his way through his psychology essay, and was unable to sleep for hours before packing his bags and just showing up--and now he was definitely overthinking. 

And totally staring back at the stranger staring back at him. 

He coughs, “Do you, um, want to use the bag?” Minho asks. The stranger blinks back. 

“Yeah, why not?” the stranger answers and was that a blush? His cheeks were dusted with pink. He’s also got that unexpected voice for his body: it’s somewhat deep, but also kind of squeaky. It’s enough of a distraction to keep Minho from stopping to ask why the stranger looks so uncomfortable. 

Minho steps away, beginning to remove his gloves--not before stealing one last glance at the stranger, damn was he stunning, before saying, “Enjoy, then! Sorry for interrupting your workout! I wish I could punch exams harder than the bag, but that never works.” 

The pretty stranger smiles too and he looks so soft and gentle, smiling in the gym, so out of place in front of the filthy punching bag. He mumbles something, but Minho’s afraid he didn’t catch the quiet whispers. Minho is kind of terrified to ask him to repeat himself, especially when he thought he heard “I’d let you crush my head with those arms. Punch me, while you’re at it.” 

Must’ve been his sleep-deprived brain entering a hallucinatory phase. 

Minho doesn’t like to be creepy, watching pretty boys and their workout routines--he doesn’t look queer, but to fuel the straight’s rhetoric of “all gay men do at the gym is look at other sweaty men” was something he didn’t want to do--Minho can’t help but look at the punching bag yet again before deciding on another way to go through the workout. 

Pretty boy, as Minho now deemed him, is standing there--lost and missing two very needed essentials, so Minho returns to the stranger, grabbing his gloves and new handwrap, the one which hasn’t been used, on the way. 

“I’m no professional, but if you value your knuckles I’d suggest wearing these,”Minho smiles, hoping that he didn’t come across as a creeper staring from across the room, but rather friendly. The stranger returns his smile, looking at the ground. He shakes his head and accepts the items.

“ Yeah,” Minho wonders if the stranger can say anything other than yeah, “Thanks.” Okay, so he knows other words. “Appreciate it.”

He’s hesitant in the way he holds the gloves and hand wrap, so Minho doesn't even know what to think--or if Pretty Boy even knows how to use them. “Can you actually box?” Minho asks, and it's not meant to be an attack. He's genuinely curious about this creature, with cute rosy cheeks in front of him. 

“I wanted to take it up actually,” he coughs, “Seemed like a great time, so no one would watch me fail.” And Minho being Choi-freaking-Minho, who never seemed to have a bad bone in his entire body and craved to have another boxer in the gym, got an idea. “Too late for that, huh?”

“Not at all, not to sound weird,” Minho started, “But I could teach you.” He smiles, as if boxing lessons were something he’s always done and not in any way to get closer to cute guy in front of him. “I've been boxing since freshman year.”

“Of college?”

“Of high school.”

“That sounds,” the stranger smiles, “great. I'm Taemin, by the way.” He offered his hand to shake, which Minho accepts as he introduces himself to Pretty Boy--Taemin. Minho might have a crush on a stranger in the gym and it’s ridiculous, he knows--a nagging voice sounding vaguely like Kibum is in his earis whisper-yelling at him. . 

“Let’s give you your first lesson,” Minho says, “I’ll teach you how to wrap for boxing. If you Google it, it’ll give you a bunch of different things and it gets kind of confusing.” Minho laughs, trying not to think about how fast Taemin put his hand towards him. Taemin smiles too, a new smile--one where the whole corner of his mouth lifted upward. Minho liked this one, he decides, while grabbing the wrap. “Okay, so take your hand and hold it out in front of you, palm up,” Minho has Taemin’s left hand in his own, with the red hand wrap in hand. “Place the loop around your thumb and wrap around the back of the wrist, you’re going to do that about three times.” Taemin’s eyes are staring at what Minho was doing. “Wrap the thumb joint again and once around the wrist.You’re going to go up to the knuckles along the back of the hand, wrap your knuckles three times and finish the overall wrap with an X on the back of the hand as you go down the wrist.” Minho’s so concentrated he doesn’t notice Taemin staring at his hands and he bites his lip, unknowingly mimicking Taemin before looking up at him. Minho wants to coo at him, to tell him how cute he looked, but he doesn't. He continues what he’s doing for Taemin. “Go between each finger, starting from pinky down to index finger, repeat the X on the back of the hand and wrap your knuckles again. Finish by wrapping around the wrist and check it’s secure.” Minho finishes up with the last of the wrapping, nodding his head. “Good?”

“Yeah,” and Taemin was back to saying yeah yet again. Minho decides to start showing Taemin proper boxing stance and footwork once Taemin wraps his other hand but, as much as Taemin tries to follow Minho’s direction, he realizes Taemin is very clumsy. Not as clumsy as Jinki, but clumsy enough. His limbs don’t cooperate--Minho has to catch him a few times right at the start and the stances were so terribly wrong that it made Minho want to laugh. 

What Taemin lacks in coordination, he makes up for in enthusiasm, though. 

“Wow, this is actually enjoyable,” Taemin mutters, “Who would’ve thought?” That confuses Minho for a bit--he said he wanted to try for a long time, didn’t he? But there’s no time to dwell, since Taemin is practically vibrating in front if him, ready to practice the punch that Minho had just explained. “Did I do that right?” 

He did not. His hips aren’t turned, Minho explains, and Taemin doesn’t seem to quite understand--he keeps turning in every single way but the right one and Minho can only sigh quietly. He’s been touching Taemin’s very firm, very sweaty, but  _ very nice _ , body for almost an hour at this point. Taemin’s been falling, or not being in the right position to stop him from hurting himself even further. Minho doesn’t even know how much more skin-on-skin contact he can handle, yet he still puts his hands on Taemin’s hips and moves them. “Here,” Minho smiles when Taemin looks back at him, “This is how you-”

“Taemin! There you are.” Taemin’s smile freezes at the sound of another voice calling him. He bites his lips and turns towards the group exiting one of the other rooms in the gym. One approaches with a confused look. “Where have you been?” he asks and reaches for a hug. 

“Yeah, Jongin missed you,” the other smirks. 

Minho is left staring at them hugging. They probably had a yoga class if the mats were anything to go by, but why are they greeting, and hugging, Taemin? How do they even know him? Minho keeps it quiet for a bit, but after that, he can’t stop himself from asking. “Uh, Taemin?’ The guy in question turned towards him. “Who are they? You’ve got a fan club?” Minho tries to joke to cover the confusion, or jealousy. Could you be jealous over pretty boys hugging Pretty Boy? 

The Kibum-like voice in his head tells him he’s acting like a goddamn school girl and to grow a pair. 

“That was my dance class,” Taemin mutters, staring down at his feet. “The tall guy is Jongin and the short one is Junmyeon.” A blush crept onto Taemin’s cheeks. 

That’s when Minho’s sleep-deprived mind catches up and connects all the details. 

Kibum has always told him he has the emotional range of a puppy, that he's not very good at catching on to things, which was a very big sin in the world of dating. He’s got a simple brain: punching and wanting to smooch, that's all Minho was. 

“So you don't box?”

“No,” and Taemin is rocking back and forth on his heels. “Is it bad of me to say that the only reason why I’m here is because you’re absolutely gorgeous and I thought getting common ground with you would make you think I’m cute?” 

“I mean I already thought you were cute,” Minho muttered. 

“You thought I was cute already?” 

Minho wanted the ground to swallow him whole. Taemin’s company, Jongin and Junmyeon, just looked at him--stared actually--with pursed lips and confusion in their eyes. 

“I did,” Minho replies. “I also thought it was a coincidence that someone else was here to use the bag at the same time I was. Nobody’s ever here to use this old thing but me.” Minho laughs quietly, running his hand through his hair. It was true. He’s here, punching a punching bag at six in the morning that nobody gravitated to, and then suddenly someone else takes interest. It’s never happened before. 

“How about this,” Taemin says, “Let’s go out sometime. I’d like to get to know you, without having to lie about boxing.” 

“I mean sure,” Minho replies. 

Taemin smiles at him. Not before telling the other two leeches to go away.  They exchange numbers and go on their merry way. 

And to think it started with a punching bag. 


End file.
